


Watchtower

by CoffeeVale



Series: Watchtower [1]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universes, Blood and Gore, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Homosexuality, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Murder, Ocfanfiction, Original Character(s), Polyamory, Romance, Shorts, Video Format: Streaming, possible major character death, suggested character death, wrote this instead of sleeping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28556862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeVale/pseuds/CoffeeVale
Summary: After moving at a young age, James left his childhood friend behind. After ten years spent yelling at each other on stream, quiet nights talking in low breaths and sleepless, nightmare filled nights where Clay fell asleep ages before him, comforted by the quiet breathing and silence they would sit in. After ten years, three of which he spent rotting in a prison with Clay as his only contact, ten years spent apart.Ten years and they meet, and James decides to pull a risky move.
Relationships: Polyamory Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Watchtower [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092308
Kudos: 3





	1. Kerosene

The Texas air is cold, a dusty breeze tickling his nose as he stepped into the yard, James half dragging him by the wrists with the brightest smile reaching his eyes that seemed to refuse to leave ever since he popped out of his car. Clay had been picked up mere hours earlier, driving the hellish all night drive with Apollo on call, half whining about how he couldn’t be here and half excited for him. His lifeline so he didn't fall asleep at the wheel, of course, Apollo had fallen asleep at the 3 am mark for him with droopy eyes. The timezones from here to there being absolute hell, even if Apollo’s natural clock was constantly in the american time zones, refusing to sleep until his friends were sleeping soundly, which was often bright early in the morning after suffering the late night times, 2 am, 3 am, 5 am, 7 am, he didn't know how the boy got anything done when everyone in london was asleep.  
  
A light squeeze of his hand, "Your not day dreaming of me when you got the real thing right?"   
He could feel the excitement beaming from the boy in front of him, it felt almost childish despite them both being in their early twenties. He could feel the light tug, the full on stare that he gave him before turning around, checking he was still there every few seconds like he was an illusion, a mirage, before he popped a lil torch in his hands, grinning as he flipped it between his fingers in an honestly impressive show of little flips and tricks.  
  
 _Maybe dream you is what i want.  
Cause i know i can't-_  
  
His hand felt bare as he realized James had let go, Dragging his eyes up as he squeezed his hand shut. He held up a lil white container, a clear warning having been scribbled out of the corner, a deadly liquid dancing between the thin plastic walls, the moon hit James’ eyes perfectly as he held it up in a cheer. “Bottoms up boys!”  
  
 _He wished Apollo was here._  
  
He pushed the thought of the three of them away, _just friends. Just. Friends._  
He forced himself back to the moment, his gaze aching as he refocused on the night dark scene. _11 at night._ Clay almost thought he had swallowed the liquid before popping a lighter out of his pocket, lighting the flipping torch in his hands on fire as he brought it inches from his face, _was he even breathing?_  
  
He was only a few feet away, shoved to the side but even he could smell the liquid, the deadly fumes and irritation it caused his eyes. He was never one for kerosene, especially since the _incident_ as a kid. It was mind blowing that James wasn't choking, teary eyed at the liquid right under his nose, smelling slightly of gas. Curious how it tasted, likely horrible.  
  
His attention flicked back as James gave him a side eye, asking for confirmation that he was ready, not that he could really stop the act with a mouth full of kerosene and a blazing flame inches from his sweat shimmering face. Giving him a nervous smile, he’d watch James do this for years on little videos he would send, always cocky and showing off when he would do it, choking out ridiculous comments before choking on the kerosene, but this time? This time he seemed different, Clay was there, he was standing right there, watching him, waiting for him.  
He’s here,  
watching him smile and laugh and fluster and lose himself and start all over again only to repeat and smash him square in the chest over and over, he was here, he was here and he was real.  
  
The breath in his lungs burned, flickering with a hidden need as he paused, getting a thumbs up from the man as he looked up at the torch, maybe he could? He drew in a short breath, knowing that fumes would have escaped down his lungs, it's not deadly, painful at most but not dangerous.  
  
And with that, the flame touched his tongue, coated in the fuel it lit ablaze in seconds, quickly fizzling through as he blew the stream out, alighting the yard in a blazing mess of red and oranges, glittering with yellows and gold. It was destructive but beautiful, a mess but… He was destructive but beautiful. _James was-_ the thought was choked down.  
  
An arsonist might refer to fire as irresistible, majestic, or resplendent. However, a firefighter might view it as catastrophic, devastating, or uncontrolled. A couple in love might gaze at the flames in a fireplace and consider them beautiful, cheerful, or romantic. An ancient priest? Perhaps his fire is ceremonial, holy, or sacred.  
Clay? He thought it was stunning, fizzling through the night and slicing through the frigid air, and as quick as it was there it was gone. It was blinding, bright, brilliant, deadly. So deadly, so strong, so earth trippingly dangerous but pleasant. He smiled.  
  
The moment was ripped to shreds when he caught James coughing, a drip of fuel dribbling down his chin still ablaze as he whipped it away as if nothing happened. Sweat beading at his dark hairline as he tried his best to clear his throat without coughing, as if not to worry Clay, but with how he looked, it was going well.  
Clay rolled his eyes slightly, “Let me guess,” He started, walking over with a cold towel he’d carried out into the yard just in case.  
  
James crackled a smile between the wheezing and clenching of his hand over his chest. “Never tried that before.” His tongue lulled out his mouth.  
  
“Yeah i assumed so, did you swallow any?” He asked, though the concern in his voice was hidden he knew what he meant as James dipped the torch back into his mouth, puffing out a small, little blast of flame in Clay’s face who jerked back instinctually, a smile reaching James eyes as he coughed again, doubling over in a messy fit of laughs and coughing, estinghising the flame around his lips.  
  
“Wanna find out?”  
  
Clay froze for a second, they flirted for years over the phone, on the phone, on discord, unable to see each other. His cheeks lit up a bit, biting a snarky remark back. James had boundaries, James had boundaries and he didn't want to cross them, even if he recommended it first.  
  
“Did i impress you?”  
  
Clay smiled, rolling his eyes as he dabbed the wet cloth across James' lips, his finger resting on the sharp edges of his chin, tilting the man's face up a bit, their eyes suddenly locked. “That wasn't my questio-”  
  
“That was mine”  
  
Clay sighed, running a hand over his face as he let out a silent groan, dropping the boy's head from his hold. “Y’know what, you can clean yourself up.” Shoving the cloth in James' chest.  
  
“Damn what happened to aftercar-”  
  
“Don’t even start.”  
  
James gave him a smug smile, “Please?” He could feel his ego inflating, not even having to look at him.  
  
He rolled his eyes, hating when James acted like he was helpless. _Maybe he was?_ **He wasn't.** Reluctantly he took the cloth back, running a finger along its softness.  
  
A quiet question hung in the silent air, you’d think a tension would grow between the two, only able to be crushed by the rumble of thunder overhead and the threatening hum of clouds, a tension that was only found in the eye of a hurricane, but it didn't. It was calm, quiet, nothing grew between the two, something in his chest welling but only between him, leaking over the edge, only by a bit.  
  
“Yeah…” He breathed, he didn't even know which question he was answering.  
  
But James, he reached up a hand, still smelling of gas as it burned Clay’s eyes a bit. He knew.  
  
It broke, everything broke, his hand curled around the soft cloth falling from his hand as he took in a shaky breath, pushing away for a moment, he stumbled back. _He didn't- he._ He tapped a hand, rubbing his lips as he looked at him, wide eyed and sweating, dipped in moonlight. _He was dangerous._ _He was- he-_  
  
And then he’s kissing back, open-mouthed, soft-lipped, kissing-him-back, a nervousness bubbling up from the pit in his stomach, a hand drifts up his back, resting in his hair, running his fingers through barely there strokes in a reassuring hope, melted, everything melted. His worry, his fear, his shallow breaths suddenly shared.  
  
The taste of kerosene was one he would never forget, it was reeling, painful, wonderful, it was deadly,  
  
so,  
  
 _so deadly._


	2. Lighthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo and James find themselves trapped on a mysterious island after nights of travelling at sea after receiving a strange mission.

Clay seemingly floated up the stairs, the cape down to his knees was still in the wind, james’ limp body hanging aimlessly in his arms as he cradled him. His legs burned, cold and ran raw from the harsh ice rubbing against where his pants didn't exactly cover. He was told it would be cold but…   
  
Everything stops the moment he sees even an inch of James' face.  
A breath hits his lungs, dragging out a shuddering sob- how long had he been holding it in…  
  
Emotions began to bubble up again, in a wave, pain- James’ _his-_ the vision of him dragging himself out under the ship's wreckage, half crying and half laughing as he realized Apollo was still alive, choking on words as he tapped his face, to blurry to process, rubbing a thin line of tears away from Apollo’s eyes as they became clear again, his lips ran raw. Dragging him into a shaking hug, relieved chuckles and sobs raking through his body. He’d only seen the bloody haze around his eyes, the drip of red onto his face as the man cradled him in his arms, huffing as sticky tears welled down his cheeks, hitting Apollo as he came back to consciousness, laying limply in his arms as he was carefully moved around, unable to control his limbs after returning, He smiled, he cried, he lived, and then he- stopped- _he…_  
  
He almost couldn't feel the tears sending pin pricks down his face as he choked down a thick sob, Clay no doubt heard him as he gave him a quick soft glance, he didn't know the mans face could soften that much, being stern ever since Apollo started begged and crying for him to help them after shaking the bodies of everyone that came into arms reach.  
  
Apollo screws his eyes shut, chest rising and falling rapidly. He wants to tell him everything- yet there was a boundary he had to walk upon, teetering from side to side, never choosing to cross in fear of knowing he would only anger Clay with the truth. He knows he can't.  
  
 _You good?_ He can hear his voice tumble in his head painfully, the air is taken from his lungs, his fingers suddenly digging into the red dripping skin, bringing him back to the moment in the best way he knew how to. His eyes, wide open, pointlessly search the area around him to check he’s still awake. Clay sounds just like he had when rounding the snowy banks for the first time, and it burns in Apollo, red hot, as he swallows the hope whole. He grips onto his dripping side. 

_What the hell is going on?_

Locking it down deep inside of him, dragging his thoughts to the building that thankfully straggled the choking wind with its walls. A deep breath filled his lungs, not one filled with whiplash and pained ice, but one filled with the cold calm of inside. He gazed up the stairs, everything spinning around him as he took the first step, nearly stumbling back as his hand scrambled for the railing, digging his arm into the bloodied cloth of his side, burning and fizzling with unfeelable pain as his hand shook, blessing and cursing every shot of adrenaline that hit him. He stepped, his emotions becoming mind shatteringly numb as he raked for any feeling of comfort, choking out the first thing that came to mind.  
  
 _The lighthouse must have not worked wel-_ He choked out a small chuckle before wiping his face clean, an ice filled gazed meeting his angrily, a mix of confusion and anger smashing directly into his chest.   
  
“It worked fine.”   
  
_How did he-_ A familiar feeling creeps into Apollo’s chest whenever he continues talking about something he knows he shouldn't step into; disappointment clouded with confusion. Today, it is accompanied by trickles of regret.   
  
Clay frowns at him, a cold gaze scanning over Apollo, _why did he look like he hated him? He only knew him for a few hours..._  
  
“Then why are there so many boats crashed?” _Fuck-_  
  
“I asked myself that long ago.” _He sounds sad, lost almost,_ Clay answers with a huff, feeling a pang of guilt as he drags his eyes over the tense face of the boy, _**maybe he was being too stern.**_  
  
“A friend once said that maybe, this is where we were meant to go all along. This is where boats- where people…”  
  
 _“Come to die.”_   
  
Apollo’s throat tightens.   
  
Do the melodic words sink into Clay’s skin the same way they consume his? Terror drains the color from his face as silence isolates him in the imprisoning walls of the building.  
  
And before he can even think-  
“I’m sorry...”   
He prays Clay believes him.   
  
A long moment of strangling silence, his feet barely moving with him as he hauled himself up the final steps into the light room, the crystalline structure spun, nothing projected out of its middle.   
  
Emotions swirl all at once, He tries to ignore the deep-seated anger that gnaws at him every time he looks at the spinning object. The murmurs and callous language that had fallen from his mouth reattach themselves into his mind— _why, why hadn’t he stopped himself last night?_ He’d been flooded with hormones and booze that made him feel like he was thirteen again, desperately clearing the browser history on his mother’s laptop before she came home.  
  
 _Why didn't he-_  
  
“I swore i-” The mumble escaped in breaths.  
  
“Saw- seen the light?” Clay filled in the missing bits answering his desperate question, _why didn't he- see the light._ Guilt gnawed at his mind.  
  
“It goes out every few hours, don't want it to overheat. It was on when you guys- _y’know._ ” He could see Clay playing with the edges of his nails.   
  
A silent bubbling anger suddenly hits him, “It turns off?”   
  
“It does.”

It spills over.  
  
“People need this to survive- Clay-”  
  
“Apollo.”  
  
It floods him again; the comfort of his name passing from Clay’s lips, even with the threat of anger, and the embarrassment that he can tell by the slightest change in his tone when he’s feeling unsafe. He loves and hates the way Clay’s voice brings him home, even if they’d only been talking for a few hours, it was- on this desolate hellscape, the closest he could get to...   
  
“Home-” _Shit_  
  
His chest swells with a torrent of emotions; Fear, panic, a strange numbness and sickness that hits him as he sees James face for the first time in ages.  
  
Clay gazes at him before turning away as he lays the limp body of his friend down on a mattress he had kicked to the ground, burning his eyes with dust.  
  
“Yeah- and it can't break.” Relieved that he ignored the burning h filled word.   
  
“But it can’t- Clay-” He catches the tension balling in his throat. “Sir.” He corrects his slip-up.  
  
Clay simply blinks at him, _did he catch it? Did he catch his name slip from his lips, did he-_  
  
He scowls, swallowing the feelings as sour collections of frustration and panic churn in his stomach. Nothing has changed besides him finding a new anxiety to unnecessarily wrap his head into knots over. Sometimes, he felt that his mind would grab onto any spike in emotion and play with it just to keep him busy. Not this time. Not with the mission at hand. Perhaps it would be best if he kept his distance from the… the _target_ until his brain tires itself out.   
  
The past few hours he’d been living in a haze, routinely walking and breathing and talking without much else to make him feel awake. After repeating the same minutes over and over again, new interests and emotions were few and far between. Why did he care so much for this frozen man, abandoned in the icy drifts, he came here to- he swallowed thickly, refusing to acknowledge the growing pain.  
  
He didn't want to-   
  
_he doesn't…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you have any questions, concerns, comments don't be afraid to contact me!
> 
> Instagram: Wo.nder_Vale
> 
> or
> 
> Twitter: LucidValence

**Author's Note:**

> Just a collections of writing/failed fics/shorts and more that i've collected during my time, most are of personal characters, some might be of friends ocs as well though. If the short is, well, to 'short' i'll just bunch it into a big special chapter every once in a while. It's not really set into one stable AU, one might be a criminal based au, one might be a police based au, one might just be a bunch of fluff! Who knows. 
> 
> Hello! If you have any questions, concerns, comments don't be afraid to contact me!
> 
> Instagram: Wo.nder_Vale 
> 
> or 
> 
> Twitter: LucidValence


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